


Where did he go?

by Happy_Pappy_Patton



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Blood, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Crying, Deceit is a slimy boi, Everyone is just sad, Fluff, Headcanon, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I may have made a few theatre references, I'm sorry I love Janus this is really old, Lots of Crying, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Orange Side - Freeform, Poor Virgil, Pre-Episode: Accepting Anxiety, Unsympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, alternate ending to accepting anxiety, but only a little fluff at the end, don't worry guys deceit lies you can excuse anything with that, feelings of inferiority, i don't know how to tag, if you squint it's kind of abusive anxceit, imposter syndrome I guess, remember when we were all theorizing on the orange side?, self doubt, seriously if you don't like crying, this was a product of that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24462958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happy_Pappy_Patton/pseuds/Happy_Pappy_Patton
Summary: An alternate version of the events of Accepting Anxiety part one: if Roman had gone to find anxiety on his own
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Prinxiety
Comments: 46
Kudos: 210





	1. A slight variation from the original source material

**Author's Note:**

> hi I've been sitting on this for a while and finally had the courage to post it. fair warning it is angsty as hell
> 
> tw:fear  
> anxiety  
> Roman being an idiot  
> self doubt
> 
> drop me a comment and a kudo if you like what you see and as always, have an amazing day!

Roman knew something was wrong the moment he was summoned to Thomas’s living room. He was sparring with the Dragon Witch, biding his time and hiding behind a tree when he felt a tug at his psyche. “Creativity!”

Creativity? What was he doing? Not Roman, his proper name. Not even Princey, his nickname. Was Thomas trying to insult him?

He rose up to tell him off, but the sight that greeted him threw him off the second the words, “Wow. Rude!” left his lips.

Patton had also just arrived and looked almost as confused as Roman felt. Logan looked exasperated like he did whenever anyone used improper grammar or deviated from his plans. And Thomas... Thomas was a mess. Like, a complete couch potato. He was wearing a hoodie and had a stupid grin on his face as if he’d just pissed himself. What was going on?

“You too cool to call us by our names, kiddo?” Patton asked, confused but still maintaining his fatherly cheerfulness.

Thomas shrugged carelessly. “Nah,” he laughed. “That was just the easiest way to, you know… Quickly establish what you guys generally represent, in case any new viewers are watching.”

Appalled, the prince glanced over to the base of the stairs, expecting to see a certain anxious beauty standing there ready to make a sarcastic remark or provide some insight into why Thomas was acting so strangely. But Anxiety wasn’t there. Anxiety was the only one who wasn’t there. And, as Roman often found to be true when the emo wasn't there, he felt that annoyingly painful sinking in his gut. He knew what it meant, being Thomas’s hopes and dreams and, subsequently, the source of this feeling more often than not. Still, it annoyed him to no end that he had such strong feelings for Anxiety. So he shoved them down, as he did with most things these days, behind a wall of egotistical drivel. Instead of serenading the side, he called him names and discredited him at every turn. He pretended to hate Anxiety as he knew he should, but it was no more than acting, all he knew to do.

Logan’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Jeez. Okay, I- consider taking a more nuanced approach with that explanation next time,” he stammered with something akin to embarrassment in his tone.

“He’s my logical side,” Thomas interrupted. It was almost as if he were mocking poor Logan. “He’s my logical side.”

“Uhh, is everything Gucci, Thomas?” Roman asked cautiously, but with enough extraneous hand gestures to seem sarcastic in the case that this was all a ruse made to paint him a fool.

Logan regarded him graciously, practically shaking. “I suppose I could’ve posed the question that way as well, but that is precisely why I wanted you two here.”

Roman’s brows furrowed, but before he could attract any attention, Patton asked the question on his mind, and he was able to regain his composure. “You mean us three?”

Logan stared at the dad. “Did I say three?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then, I guess I didn’t mean three.”

Patton replied softly, but Roman was too lost in thought to pay much attention to their banter, his eyes trained stoically at the empty space that should have held Anxiety. _Please,_ he prayed to no one in particular. _Please, let him flicker into place. Let him appear and see the mess we’re in and get everything back on track and make everything normal again. If anything in the world is truly holy, let him be here now._ The world did not answer. Where the hell was he?

“-and this is what happens!” Logan shouted, snapping Roman back into reality. Logan was clutching his heart as if he’d just been shot, and Patton was sniggering to himself.

Glancing back at the bumbling mess that Thomas had become, Roman decided enough was enough, and it was time to get back on track. “Alright,” he breathed, painting on a smile. “Time out for thee and time out for thee, focus on issues, or focus on me.”

Shaking his head, Logan sighed, “Ok, you’re right. Let’s get down to business.”

“To defeat...”

“The Huns!” Roman finished, and that’s when it dawned on him just how out of it he was. After all, Thomas, the apathetic man-child, had caught the apparent reference before his literal Creativity. Something was seriously wrong with him. The sinking feeling in his gut was twisting and spiralling and morphing into something foreign and much, much more painful. Something fast and crazy and tingly like everything was just slightly off. His hands were clammy and cold, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. His body was burning, shattering, everything was falling, falling, falling. No, it wasn’t foreign. He’d had this feeling before, though not under these circumstances. It was fear, plain and simple, yet not in any way easy to manage. He was worried about Anxiety. Boy, was that a laugh. Is this how the emo felt all the time? Roman wanted to apologize a million times over for mocking his overreactions. Except he couldn’t. Because Anxiety still hadn’t shown up.

And Roman had responsibilities to maintain. At Logan’s glare, he rambled out some flippant apology. Logan returned his gaze back to Thomas and sighed, “Thomas, that aloofness that you are displaying is highly… unproductive.”

“You mean I can’t make babies? What? Just kidding,” he replied, and even Roman, as preoccupied as he was, couldn’t smother a groan. This was getting annoying. If only…

No. Anxiety wasn’t there. He should be glad for that. He had to get over this stupid fixation. Anxiety got in the way of all of Thomas’s dreams. They could figure this out, just the three of them. It couldn’t be that hard.

Logan was on his last nerve, it seemed. “Can someone else please- some whe- le Flames. On the side of my face. See- Seething… Seething fire.”

Uh oh. It was never a good sign when Logic started to quote movies.

Patton tried to intervene with his patented dad method. “Is something bothering you, buddy?”

“An unattainable dream?” Roman added. “A hopeless romance?”

“A lack of sleep, a- a puzzling situation?” Ok, it was official. Literal logic was at its wit’s end.

“Having trouble with adultery?” Patton asked knowingly.

“Oh yeah,” Thomas laughed, “you always say that instead of ‘becoming an adult’ or ‘adulthood.’ As if you didn’t know the troubling definition of the word you’re using, which actually means, you know, when a-“

“Wait!” Roman shouted. No way was he gonna let this moronic version of Thomas ruin Patton’s sweet innocence. Realizing he’d come off as much more severe than usual, he tried to lighten the tone with a Disney reference. “Pumba, not in front of the kids.”

Patton cocked just head questioningly, but quickly shook it off and returned to his regular grin. “I don’t know what you two are talking about, but something definitely seems to be off.”

“You keep saying that, but honestly, I’m good… fam,” Thomas drawled.

This seemed to upset Patton, but everyone could tell by the glint in his eyes he was only joking. “Now, don’t you go shortening the word family by cutting out my three favourite letters: I L Y.”

Logan hid a snicker with an unconvincing eye roll. “Okay, well, Patton seems to be doing okay. How about you, Roman?”

 _Horrible,_ his mind screamed. _I’m freaking out over someone I should hate and who totally hates me by now for how I’ve treated him while trying to cover up my not-very-platonic feelings for him, and I want to apologize, but he hasn’t shown up yet, and you don’t even seem to care that he’s not here._

Instead, what came out of his mouth was, “Let’s see, uh… Disney references, regal appearance, general awareness that I’m better than you two… Uhh, I’m feeling pretty good.”

“Then what could be wrong here?”

Patton pursed his lips. “Boy, you two always act like you know all the answers... So, it’s surprising that you keep overlooking something so simple.”

And though Roman knew precisely what problem Patton was referring to, he had a reputation to uphold. “Oh, is that so, Patton? You're so cute.”

Logan mimicked his condescending tone, but his words were sincere. “And, uh- what might that be?” He smirked, genuinely unaware of the giant hole in his thinking.

Patton sighed angrily and spread his arms wide. “Where is Anxiety?”

The question snapped something inside of Roman; it wasn’t just him. Something was truly off. His fear didn’t show on his face. The only tell that anything had changed was a slight shaking of his right hand. No one would notice. And no one did notice. Who would look at him, a prince, a paragon of fortitude, and find the clarity to see through the mask to the trembling man underneath? Best let them believe what they already considered fact. Even logic only saw what he knew to be true.

And logic didn’t see the use of fear. Like a true prince shouldn’t. Roman needed to get his mind back on track. He was Creativity. He was supposed to be the fearless dreamer; it was his job for god’s sake. He shouldn’t want the literal embodiment of fear around. And even if he did, it was his duty as one of the sides to act like he didn’t. So he laughed, and he hated himself with everything he had inside.

Logan raised his eyebrow at Patton. “Uh, do you honestly think it’s necessary to have him here?”

“To offer his mopey, dopey input?” Roman asked, and then to add to the charade: “I-I don’t like him.” He didn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth, but then again, when did he ever? He was an actor, after all. This was second nature- no, first nature- to him.

Thomas was entirely out of his own nature, it seemed. “I’m still hungry,” he mused, wandering away from the camera and out into the kitchen.

“No-no,” Logan groaned.

Roman rubbed his temple. “Stop him. Stop him!”

“Thomas, this is high-” Logic sighed, defeated. “We can’t afford these detours anymore.”

“Ooh, I found some granola!” he called, rummaging through the drawers.

Roman rolled his eyes. “We’re trying- we’re doing a- we’re doing a vid here, buddy.”  
Thomas meandered back to his usual spot, now holding a bag of granola. Logan muttered something about health.

Roman tried once again to get the video back on track. It was his job to make sure video material was quality. “Thomas, isn’t there a more important thing that you should be focusing on right now?” he asked as the man shovelled granola down his throat. “Oh, you’re just getting it all over the carpet, aren’t ya? Alright, well…”

“Wh-what if you have guests over?” Logan sounded beyond exasperated.

Thomas just shrugged. “That won’t happen for a while, so it’s not really a big deal.”

“Well,” Patton giggled with a wink, “he’s definitely inviting some ants over.”

As usual, the pun flew right over Logan’s head. “Just aunts, no uncles?”

“Can you at least take off the hoodie?” Roman begged, distracted by how much the garment reminded him of his own inner heartaches. Then, realizing just how random his request would sound and not wanting to arouse suspicion, he added, “Like, you look like a hot mess. Nay, not hot, cool. Nay, not cool, uncool. An uncool mess.”

Thomas grinned. “If you want me to.” He pulled back his hood to reveal what looked like a bird’s nest, except worse. Every strand of hair stuck out in a different direction, and not one of them was facing the right way.

“Oh, dear, sweet MOTHER of hairbrushes, what is your hair?” Roman screamed, for once not hiding his emotions. The hairstyle was a real horror to look at.

Thomas made a face of indifference. “I’m just letting it do its thing.”

“There’s a lot of viewers that are gonna see you like this, so…”

“Eh, they’ve seen me on better days, so it evens out.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You know, Thomas, I don’t know if that makes sense.”

Striking a mischievous smirk, Patton chuckled, “You have kind hair.”

Thomas’s expression became mildly confused but maintained its calm aloofness. “Oh, thanks, I guess.”

“Kind of hair that grows on a dog’s butt!” he finished, almost toppling over in laughter at his own joke.

If anything, the insult only spurred Thomas on. He laughed. “That’s probably an accurate comparison.”

Roman groaned, “Just put the hood back on.” As much as he hated the sight of the familiar hood, the hair was too disastrous to even look at.

Thomas snapped his fingers and pointed at the prince. “You’re the boss, Hoss.”

Frustrated, Roman spread his arms wide. “What does that mean?” he exclaimed. “I’m not… Hoss. I’m Prince Roman!” Thomas nodded dismissively and went back to his granola bag. The prince took his opportunity to add, “Ugh, okay. Well, better bring in Count Woe-laf. Any input is better than what Mr T is contributing.” He was rather proud of both the nicknames and his surprisingly convincing faux distaste for the side. Though he didn’t necessarily like his coping methods- they were rude and probably caused more hatred from Anxiety than anything else- he tried to think of them more as an acting routine, a way to keep his talents refined. It was always comforting to know he could play the villain if need be, good to know he could so blatantly ignore his emotions if the role required it.

Through a mouthful of granola, Thomas mumbled, “Roman brought the clever nicknames to the table, I brought the oats and honey clusters to the table.”

“Put them down,” Roman growled.

To his surprise, Thomas did.

“Fine,” Logan deadpanned. “Let’s get him in here. Anxiety?”

Roman’s breath hitched. He was sick of that ache in his chest like something was missing. He wanted Anxiety there more than anything.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, nothing kept happening. After nothing happened for about five seconds, Logan shrugged. “Hm. That’s odd.”

Roman shook his head, not ready to give up. He was in too far. If he let his hopes fall now, he wasn’t sure he could keep up the act. “He’s probably listening to that PG-13 music again.” He swept his arm upward, summoning the side to the living room. “Anxiety!”

Nothing continued to happen. Desperate, he frantically waved his arm up and down. “Ugh. How-dare-he? What?”

“Now, now,” Patton scolded, “try to be a little more loving. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Anxiety! Come on up here, kiddo.” He stood there, a smile frozen on his face, as anything utterly failed to happen. “C-come on up here so everyone can see that cool makeup.” Still nothing. “Welp,” he grinned, “Love has failed me.”

 _Ain’t that a mood,_ Roman thought to himself at the same time as Thomas guffawed, “That can be applied to many instances in my life, the first being-”

“Steady-there, Thomas!” Roman barked. “Are we really going down that road? You usually don’t like talking about that kind of stuff.” Roman would know; he was hiding his own painful circumstance.

Suddenly, Logan’s eyes widened. “You’ve got no shame.”

Roman saw where his train of thought was going instantly. It was like the dragon witch had frozen him, though that would definitely have been less painful. Chills ran up his spine. No. It wasn’t possible.

“Definitely not much of a filter…” Patton added.

It couldn’t be. Could it? He wasn’t sure; nothing like this had ever happened before.

“Yes, and no fear…” Roman finished, the dread growing and taking control of him. He wanted to run. He wanted to be back in his room, unaware of any of this, fighting something real, something physical. This was too much. It was terrifying, and 100% his fault. He was to blame. And that killed him more than anything else.

“You have no-“

“I have no anxiety, is that what you guys are trying to say?” Thomas laughed.


	2. A complete break from the original source material

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman goes to find his emo nightmare... he may have bitten off a little more than he can chew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is cute, but it is very angsty so idek
> 
> tw: self-hatred  
> self-doubt  
> ducking out  
> crying  
> kind of a panic attack?  
> talks of deflection as a defence mechanism
> 
> lemme know if I missed anything! have an amazing day and leave kudos or a comment if you want!

He’d known it for at least a minute by now, but it wasn’t until Thomas said it out loud that it truly dawned on him. Anxiety was gone. He’d left them. And Roman was at fault.

_Stupid, stupid prince. All you do is try to save your own skin, oblivious to the harm you cause for everyone else. You were too scared of your own stupid feelings, too stubborn to give up your prejudices, and now you’ve hurt the one person you’ve ever loved._

His own thoughts shocked him. Love was a strong word, definitely not one he’d ever associated with Anxiety or any feelings toward him. Yet he knew it was true the moment it crossed his mind. This wasn’t some stupid crush. He loved the emo, no matter what he told himself.

And now he’d blown it. He’d lost his chance for love. He’d pushed his feelings too far down, and now he was left to drown.

No. He wouldn’t drown, and he most definitely wouldn’t take Anxiety down with him. It wasn’t in his nature. He was a fearless prince, and though some of that fearlessness was, admittedly, an act, he couldn’t just run away when there was a damsel in need of saving, no matter the cost. He had been selfish, cowardly, and now it was time to atone for his sins. He had to go to Anxiety’s room and set things straight.

His walls were crumbling, but he couldn’t care less. So what if they all knew how he felt? They didn’t matter. Not when Anxiety could be in trouble. He couldn’t be bothered to see if any of them were paying attention. He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t make some grand, over-exaggerated excuse as to why he was leaving, as per usual. He just left. He closed his eyes and let his fears grow and grow until there was nothing else. _Anxiety hates you. You’ve blown it. He’ll never forgive you. He’s not here because of you. You’ve hurt him. You don’t deserve him. You should just leave and never come back; they don’t need you._ Soon enough, he was sinking through the ground and up into an alternate reality.

He’d never been to Anxiety’s room before, but he couldn’t exactly say he was surprised by what he found. It was dark and angsty in the most cliché way. The lights were dim, surfaces covered in cobwebs and other Halloween decorations. On the wall in front of which Thomas usually stood hung an old clock that was moving far too fast to actually be telling the time. The wall next to Logan’s spot hosted a clay jester’s face ornament, and the table behind was covered in candles. The window behind Patton’s place was covered by cartoonish spider curtains, and the wall behind Roman had the most gorgeous Nightmare Before Christmas poster he’d ever seen. Only the base of the stairs where Anxiety appeared remained primarily unchanged. It was actually kind of cute, in a way. There were tiny slivers of light throughout the darkness. All the candles but three were lit, and on the couch sat an adorable cat face stuffed animal that Roman knew Patton would’ve loved had he been here.

But where was Anxiety?

“What are you doing in my room‽” a voice from behind shouted.

Roman screamed and spun around. Anxiety was slouching in his usual spot at the base of the stairs, staring at Roman like he’d seen a ghost. The prince released a sigh of relief, and, to his surprise, a bark-like laugh escaped his lips as well. Anxiety was here, still unhurt and unchanged, and he was perfect. The only difference was his eyeshadow, which was twice as extreme as usual. But still, he was there, he was ok, and that was all that mattered.

Except, of course, that Anxiety was still staring at him with a mixture of terror, confusion, and something that looked far too much like disgust, and that was more than enough to replace his giddiness with an untamable sense of dread. Of course, Anxiety still hated him. His decision to change didn’t change the fact that he’d hurt the emo in the past, and he’d done nothing to fix that. Not yet.

“I…,” his voice cracked. What could he say? “I came to check on you. We were worried when you didn’t show up.” It was the coward’s way out, sure, but years and years of covering up didn’t all go away in a minute. He would get to the whole apology thing in a bit, but he had to build up the courage first.

Anxiety scoffed. “You were worried? That’s… believable.”

“It’s the truth, I swear it!”

“Sure.” The sarcasm was dulled slightly by the wavering of his voice. “Are you done yet, or is this just the beginning of some long, heroic monologue?”

“Yes. No. Um...” the prince sighed. “Ok, look, I didn’t just come to check on you.”

“Shocker. Here to make fun of my makeup? Maybe my bangs? Take a hint Princey, I’m not in the mood. Seriously.”

And that was the moment Roman realized just how badly Anxiety was shaking. How red his eyes were. The rawness of his eyebags that was only barely covered by the thickened eyeshadow. The added slump in his shoulders. And suddenly, all sense of purpose was forgotten. “What happened?”

Anxiety froze. “What?” he asked, voice low and fragile.

“Who- who did this? Who could-oh.” It was all so obvious. Glaring him right in the face. Everything he most feared. Everything was falling apart. The tower was crumbling and bursting into flames before him. “Oh my god.”

“Woah!” Anxiety yelped as he collapsed into him. “Roman, are you ok?”

Roman felt like he was about to puke. Could he puke? It didn’t matter; nothing mattered. All that mattered was the man in front of him and the unavoidable fact that he had hurt him. So much. _He left because of you. He’s crying because of you._

“Oh my god, Anxiety, I am so sorry,” he whimpered, though he knew that didn’t even begin to cover it. “I am so, so sorry.”

“What are you-”

“I didn’t mean it. Any of it, I swear. I was just so confused and so, so terrified and I- I couldn’t-”

“Woah Woah Woah. Calm down, Princey. Breathe. Just breathe.”

He did. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8, repeat. Gradually, his heart slowed. “I’m-” he huffed, only just noticing the tears running down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just back up. Start from the beginning. What the hell are you talking about?”

Roman took a shaky breath. “I- I haven’t been fair to you. I forget everything when you show up. I can’t… think right.”

The emo nodded understandingly, which was precisely the opposite of whatever Roman had expected. “I know. That’s why I left. I threw everything off. I don’t belong there.”

“No!” Roman groaned in frustration. “No, that’s not it at all! God, you’re an idiot.”

“Look, if I wanted to stand around being insulted, I would have just shown up in the first place. Get to your point.”

“Right. Sorry. It’s just… I’m sorry, I’m the idiot. For far too long, I’ve been too focused on myself to notice the impact my life has had on yours or anyone else’s, for that matter. I became exactly the villain I always try to fight, and you were the main victim of my… unhealthy coping methods, I guess you could say. But then I went too far, and you got hurt and left, and now everything’s wrong all because I couldn’t handle one fucking emotion and it’s just so much easier to blame someone else than to actually tell everyone how much of a monster you really are, and I’m just… so sorry, for everything.”

“Hey, hey,” Anxiety coaxed. The arms supporting the prince relaxed and shifted so that they were face to face. His violet eyes delved into the prince’s, but they weren’t cruel or accusing. They were soft, warm, and sympathetic. “Ro, I didn’t leave because of you. You have to have known that. This isn’t your fault, it’s mine.”

“I didn’t mean a single word of it. You know that, right? It was all bullshit.”

Anxiety didn’t answer, only bit his lip, which drew Roman’s attention to his lips. Cupid’s bow, tan undertone, slightly pink, glistening, perfect. It was insane that he was focusing on such trivial things when there were so many more important things to do, but here he was, and there they were, and where was his mind? Why, where it always yearned to be: far away in another world. A world where none of this mattered. The one where he and Anxiety stood tall without all of these complications in the way.

But the complications were there, and the tears couldn’t just be wished away. Anxiety had listened to him. He’d believed it.

“What were you thinking?” Roman cried. “Don’t you know better than to listen to me by now?”

“No,” Anxiety muttered, though, to the prince or himself, it wasn’t clear. “No, you’re right, though. I’ve always tried to protect Thomas, but it’s obvious that I’m really just keeping him from doing anything. I’m too uptight. I’m built to be a bad guy, there’s no point in fighting that. No.” He held up a hand, silencing Roman’s rebuttal. “Don’t argue, I’ve tried. The best thing I can do for Thomas is duck out.”

“Ah! And there… there is where you’re wrong. Have you seen him lately?” Anxiety shook his head, confused. “Without you, he’s a total wreck. He’s wearing a hoodie, I don’t think he took a shower, his hair…” Roman shuddered, making the other chuckle weakly. “He won’t get anything done. Anxiety, he’s eating granola for the video. He has no sense of purpose anymore. It’s complete chaos.

“I know I’ve been hard on you before. I’m Creativity, and I thought that was what I was supposed to do. You warn Thomas against chasing his dreams for the fear he might get hurt. I used to think you stop dreams from coming true.”

Anxiety flinched slightly but noticeably, and Roman’s heart nearly burst. _Get a grip, Roman. If you don’t do this now, you never will. Focus._ “But I was wrong. Sure, you’re a little dramatic sometimes, but so am I. You keep Thomas on track and stop him from getting hurt or embarrassing himself. You’re what pushes Thomas to rehearse and rehearse before performances. You are that nervousness that he feels right before going on stage, but just as he does so... you ease up, and... you let his excitement and passion for performance take over. We’re not so different, you know. We both strive for perfection, we just go about it in different ways. I don’t want to be your enemy anymore. I want to work with you. Anxiety, I-”

“Virgil.”

Roman blinked. “What?”

Anxiety took a deep breath and met his gaze. His eyes were full of fear but also determination. “Virgil. My name is Virgil.”

The tears came back in full force. He trusted him.

“Virgil,” he murmured, testing out the name. “That’s beautiful.”

Virgil scrunched up his face into the most adorable little smile Roman had ever seen. “Yeah, well… someone should know.”

It's now or never.

“Listen, Virgil, there’s something you should know too.” The prince bit his lip anxiously. This was so much harder than he’d thought possible. Virgil shifted uncomfortably. “Nothing bad, I promise. I’m not against you, Virgil. I’m sorry that I’ve tried to make it seem that way. I have issues with controlling and dealing with emotions, and I try to hide them more often than not. The truth is, I-”

A hand slapped against Roman’s mouth. His heart skipped a beat. Shit. Not here, not now.

“Roman?” Virgil squeaked, eyes widening. He tried to answer, but his voice refused to work.

“Oh, Roman,” a familiarly smooth voice chuckled, and the emo’s breathing stopped. “You floor me, you really do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DANGER NOODLE ALERT! D A N G E R N O O D L E


	3. A Bit of a Climax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit shows up to tell some lies and spill some hard truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a weird chapter, also the longest one, hope you like it!
> 
> tw: unsympathetic deceit  
> manipulation  
> crying  
> self-hatred  
> self-doubt  
> doubt  
> half-truths  
> emotional abuse/manipulation  
> talks of repression as a coping mechanism  
> paranoia

The two sides turned slowly to see a third man in the room. He, too, looked uncannily like Thomas, but his face was scarred on one side. Scarred, or… scaled. His smile was twisted and out of place in the tense room, and his eyes were a startling yellow with slits as pupils. He was clad head to toe in black formal attire with hints of yellow peeking out at every corner. His entire entity exuded confidence and trustworthiness, though anyone who knew him knew that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Deceit grinned at Roman. “I mean, really, you’re quite the actor. You almost had me fooled. And you say you’re better than me.”

He shifted his gaze. “And Virgil, I hate to say it, but I’m disappointed. I thought after all I’ve tried to teach you, you would know how to spot a lie.”

Virgil snarled, but it wasn’t intimidating as much as sad. He was shaking too much to scare anyone more significant than a cockroach. “What are you talking about?”

Clutching his heart, Deceit faked a gasp. “You mean to tell me that you honestly believe all this crap? That’s a laugh and a half.”

“Stop.”

“Seriously, how desperate do you have to be to believe the first thing he tells you? You’ve gone soft, Virgil, really. It’s pathetic.”

“Shut up!” Virgil shouted. His eyes were red, and tears were flowing freely down his face. “Get out of my head!”

“What’s wrong?” The liar almost sounded sincere. “Did I strike a nerve? Oops. It’s not my fault that you’ve lost sight of common sense. Stop playing Light Side and face the facts, honey. They don’t want you.”

Roman shook his head vehemently, but Virgil wasn’t paying attention; his eyes were locked on the ground. Playing Light Side? What could that mean? Regardless, it didn’t matter. It was all lies. Virgil should’ve known that. Shouldn’t he? Of course. So why did he look so defeated?

“Stop,” Virgil repeated quietly, more to himself than anyone in the room as if he were trying to keep his ears from listening.

“Come on, you know it’s true. If they really wanted you back, why would they send Roman? You act as if you hate him, and he hates you. Wouldn’t it make more sense to send Patton, who cares about everyone? Or even Logan, who could give you facts about why you matter? But no, Roman is the one who’s here, which, to an outsider, would seem like the worst choice possible.

“But I’ve been in your mind, Virgil. I know how you really feel. Our little prince here is your perfect Achilles heel. Only someone hell-bent on screwing with you would send him.

“Besides, you’re not an idiot, Virgil. You know better than any of us that this is all too good to be true. Why would he come here, swallow his pride, just to tell you everything you wish was true? It’s more than a little suspect, you must admit.

“Don’t be a fool. He doesn’t love you; he’s messing with you. You slipped up, you showed weakness, and now he’s retaliating. When has he ever shown an ounce of kindness towards you? Kid yourself all you want, but this… it’s all just an act.”

Roman’s heart was slowly shattering into a million pieces. It was hard to admit, but Deceit had a point. He’d been horrible to Virgil for so long for reasons that were far less than noble. He was a terrible person, and there was more than enough evidence to prove Deceit’s claim.

Virgil fidgeted with his hoodie. He still wouldn’t look up. “You’re lying,” he growled, his voice small and hoarse.

“I’m a pathological liar. I have to know the truth.”

Roman wanted to scream, to tell Virgil that the snake was lying. That he loved him. But he couldn't speak. He had no control over his body. He could only watch in horror as the love of his life sank to the ground, shaking, tears filling his eyes.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Virgil flinched. “What happened to you? When did you become so weak? You used to be so powerful before you started this game of make-believe. The truth is, if they knew who you were, they wouldn’t even let you stay. They’re just waiting for a reason to kick you out, Roman especially. And to think, you showed so much promise. You should never have ditched Paranoia.”

Roman’s blood ran cold. He knew that name all too well. The orange-clad dark side had been the scariest one he’d known of for so many years, though he’d only met him in person once. Most of the time, it was only Paranoia’s voice that made its way into the mindscape. That was all he needed to cause a panic. All until his sudden disappearance when Thomas started therapy, and his being replaced with the Emo Nightmare. But Virgil couldn’t be Paranoia, could he?

Virgil was on his knees. He glanced up at Roman, anguish riddling his face, but the creative side could do nothing to mask the shock on his face.

“No,” Virgil whimpered. “No.”

With a click of his tongue, Deceit morphed his face into an expression of sympathy. “We warned you. Chasing the birds only serves to remind you that you can’t fly. They-” he gestured at Roman flippantly, “they aren’t your family. Never have been. They weren’t there for you, not today, not months ago, not even when you started trusting them. Now you see. The grass was never greener on the other side. Innocent little Virgil, you’ve been deceived. I’m so sorry.”

Watching Virgil’s sob-wracked frame, the prince suddenly realized just how much he himself was shaking. He’d read so much of manipulative villains and slippery snakes, and how the heroes break the spell. But Roman was helpless. His feet were rooted to the ground; his arms felt bound to his sides; his hand was still firmly clasped to his mouth. Virgil was convinced that he was merely toying with him, and Deceit could easily use him as a mindless puppet. He couldn’t be the hero here, there was no way. He was powerless.

But by god, he was going to fix this, or he was going to die trying. Every trap had a flaw, every rope had slack. He just needed to find it, and quickly. He needed to be the hero, now more than ever. Relieving Virgil of this particular kind of misery had to come first before Roman’s own personal troubles, after all.

The air had turned icy and eerily silent. The only things moving in the room were the trembling bodies of the two, and Deceit’s twitching grin. It was as if the rest of the world had frozen, leaving only the snake and the damsel on the brink of sinning.

When Deceit’s voice broke the silence once more, it was achingly soft and barely audible. “Come back,” he whispered, mouth barely moving at all. “Come back to your real family. You may have abandoned us, but we’ve always been here for you, and we always will be. You don’t have to be weak anymore; with all of us behind you, you’ll never feel this pain again. Come back, and be strong.”

Finally, Virgil tore his gaze away from the dark side to rest on Roman, and the pain in his expression very nearly pulled Roman back under the sea of hopelessness. Virgil was broken, no more makeup to cover up all of his insecurities; they were all laid out like a spread of cards for anyone to read. The temptation in his eyes was clear: he wanted to go with Deceit. He wanted to become a dark side, anything to make the hurt go away. Roman knew, because a few hours ago if the same offer had been posed to him, he would’ve accepted without hesitation. The overwhelming emotions could hurt so, so much. Sometimes it felt easier to just get rid of them.

But Virgil knew as much as he did that repression only made things worse, he was sure of it. Sure, life sucked, but that was better faced head-on than pushed back forever.

When Roman looked into Virgil’s eyes, however, he saw none of that. There was pain, sure, and desire, but there was also something clouded and glassy as if that part of him had been shut down. The person he was staring at was not Anxiety, not wholly.

Still, a jolt of shock rolled down his spine as the fallen angel turned back to the snake and nodded.

A small squeak escaped the prince, but it was muffled by the hand on his mouth. This couldn’t actually be happening. This was some sick nightmare. _Wake up. Go back to your normal life, forget any of this ever happened. Just wake up._

Deceit smiled coldly. “Dear Virgil, I just know you’ll make all of us so tremendously proud. Come here.”

Virgil stood slowly and walked, almost zombie-like, over to the window. The two sides embraced, and the emo visibly tensed. Deceit stroked his back soothingly. “It’s ok, Virgil. You’re safe now. There’s only one thing left to do.”

Startling, Virgil jerked away from the hug. “What do you mean?”

“Relax, honey. This is all for your benefit. I’m just trying to help you feel better. Everything will be fine; we just have to take care of one… minor detail, and then you’ll be free.”

His slitted eyes landed on Roman, and for the first time that day, genuine, pure, unadulterated fear seeped into him. Paralyzing fear. The kind of fear that could kill a mammoth if appropriately focused. He was completely vulnerable, defenceless. Anything could happen to him here, with no one in his side and no one to hear him scream and no means of screaming regardless. The way the snake was grinning at him was positively terrifying.

Resting one arm firmly on the new dark side, Deceit led him over to where the prince was on his knees, frozen. Horror stole his breath as his head jerked upward to glare at the pair of its own accord. The emo jumped, but the hand on his back kept him rooted in place. The liar hushed him comfortingly, chuckling. “Don’t be scared, Virgil. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

He whipped his head back and forth between his mentor and the man kneeling before him. “I’m confused. What do you want me to do?”

“He made you cry. He tortured you and manipulated your heart like a pawn on a chessboard. He played with your emotions. He’s the reason you have all of this pain. If you truly want to free yourself from it all, you need to make him suffer. We've all seen what you could do before you left, and I know you can still do it. Unleash your full potential. Crush his heart as he crushed yours.”

Lies. So many fucking lies. That’s how Deceit worked; he stretched and contorted the truth until it was exactly what he wanted people to hear. Roman was sure the dark side had never told an absolute truth in his life. Then again, absolute truths these days were so rare. Even the prince’s own mind supplied him with endless half-truths and not quite facts. Everyone was a liar, at least a little bit, that much was clear. But the lengths of deception Deceit went to in order to keep people under his control were on another level; it was truly vile, purely evil.

However twisted his methods, they were nonetheless effective, and Roman watched anxiously as Virgil lowered himself to his knees until the two were face to face. The emo’s face was set in determination, and the fear behind it only served to fuel the fire. Looking at the man before him, the creative side could see next to nothing of the man he loved. His cheeks were smeared with eyeshadow, his jaw was set loosely, his eyes were too relaxed, too apathetic. It reminded him, in a way, of Thomas’s behaviour earlier that day: the same aloofness, the same mindless detachment. What he was looking at was not Virgil, but a hollow puppet, an extension of Deceit in its own way. In fact, it gave Roman an idea.

“Come on, Virgil,” the snake growled, thinly veiling the malice in his tone. “You can do this.”

Doubts crept into Roman’s mind. _Your ideas suck. Thomas doesn’t need you. He never needed you. They all hate you. You’re so fake. They think they know you, they believe you’re some self-righteous prince, but under all that bullshit? Face it, you’re just a lonely little coward who’s too afraid to be rejected to let people in. If you left, everyone would be so much better for it. That would be the heroic thing to do, wouldn’t it? But you don’t because you’re too goddamn scared of being forgotten that you don’t give a rat’s ass who gets hurt while you hold onto your stupid fucking reputation. You’re sick._

And though Roman knew it was the work of the husk of pure power in front of him, it was still impossible to deny what his mind was saying. After all, these thoughts were nothing new. He’d always known these things about himself, always despised them. Just as Patton hated his negative emotions, and Logan feared not being listened to. Just as Anxiety hated that he was the villain of the story. But Patton was still the best person he knew, despite all of his insecurities, and Logan still got his point across when it mattered most. And Virgil… Virgil had been so determined to become good that he became the brightest of all of them. Virgil didn’t see just how amazing he was. Roman wasn’t perfect, and he was well aware of that. But maybe, just maybe, there was more than only the shortcomings. Maybe he did matter. Maybe there was a part of him that was the selfless soldier he pretended to be. Maybe there was hope.

And that smallest glimmer of hope was just enough to push away the layers of fog and fear and take his chance. It was a long shot, but he had to try. It was his only hope.

And maybe one hope was all he needed.

Roman’s right hand flew off his mouth and flourished upward, while the left reached out and pulled Virgil’s head toward his.

Their lips connected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty that's the climax  
> (don't call me out about consent until you read the next chapter please, ok?)  
> y'all are lovely and I hope you find endless happiness in whatever you do today and I'm proud of you!


	4. Chapter 4: his kiss, the riot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dangerous, this jack of hearts  
> with his kiss
> 
> the riot starts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to make a hadestown reference sue me  
> (don't sue me I need money for a pride flag)
> 
> tw: blood  
> crying I think  
> self-doubt  
> punching  
> oooh swearing

Roman had built thousands of fantasies around Virgil in the past year, but not even his wildest dreams could compare to this. Where in his musings, there was tenderness and perfection, this was rough and passionate and so very real. Deep in his subconscious, a part of him was aware that Roman had been aiming for the forehead, and that there was no possible way he could have missed unless Virgil had moved which, why would he, and that this entire thing was impossible how did he end up making out with the Emo Nightmare this was insane and unholy what the everlasting hell. But he could hardly care; he was kissing Virgil. No, that wasn’t quite right. Virgil was kissing him. This couldn’t be real. This was too amazing, too beautiful, too blessed for Roman’s stupid life. The world melted away, and suddenly he was just Creativity, and Virgil was just Anxiety, and that was all that mattered. Everything was fine.

All too soon, Roman broke away, gasping for air and resting his forehead on Virgil’s. As his breathing steadied, reality came crashing back down on him. Fear fogged his logic, and he knew at that moment that his deepest fear was true; he was an absolute coward. Because he knew that no matter how many dragons he’d slain, no matter how many villains he’d vanquished, he would never find the courage needed to raise his head and see if his plan had worked. He wasn’t and never would be ready to see the hatred and hurt in Virgil’s eyes had he not succeeded, the disgust on his face from the kiss. He didn’t have the guts to find he’d failed, so there he stayed, eyes drilling holes in the carpet beneath him. 

When Virgil at last moved, it was away from him, and Roman cursed himself for being so heartbroken. It had been hopeless from the start, or so he told himself. But the thing about hope is that it never stops; it just gets smaller and more desperate and more devastating when you lose it. 

Roman was the dreamer, and he often dreamt so much farther than reality could bend, but even he couldn’t find any way out of this. The kiss was his only plan, and he’d messed it up. Hope had failed him. Not enough to cling onto; but enough to crush him if he lost anymore.

A single tear fell to the carpet.

Distantly, Roman heard Virgil rise to his feet ever so slowly. Deceit let out a low chuckle. “There it is, dear Virgil. It’s great to have Paranoia back, isn’t-”

The snake was cut off abruptly by a blood-curdling crunch, followed by another, and a howl of pain. The prince’s head whipped upward in shock.

Virgil was standing in front of him, shaking his right hand fervently, eyes burning. Deceit was on the floor, clutching his nose and whimpering. Both of their hands were bloody.

“Deceit,” Virgil growled, quietly but with enough venom to kill an elephant, “what the fuck. Do you think you’re doing?”

And the thing about hope is that it never stops; it grows at every possibility, no matter how much of it you lose.

Roman was the dreamer, and he often dreamt far past the boundaries of reality, but even he could never have imagined the rush of elation and satisfaction that came from seeing the snake on the carpet with a broken nose. Not only because it meant sweet justice was, at last, being served, but it also meant that Virgil was free; he was himself again. The damsel had cast aside the apple. It was all going to be ok. Not immediately, of course. Deceit was still here, Virgil’s breathing was still ragged, and Roman himself was still crying, still terrified. But everything would be alright, eventually. Every monster in the world had a chink in its armour, and no matter how hard things got, they could get through it. With the devil no longer in power, nothing felt impossible.

The dark side propped himself hastily onto one elbow. “How the hell?” he hissed. 

Virgil started to answer, but stopped and turned back to Roman, curiosity in his eyes. He had no idea what had happened, having been brainwashed during the entire debacle. 

And Roman straightened up, pushed himself up to his feet, staggered a bit, looked the snake dead in the eyes, and spat, “True love, bitch. Not that you’d know anything about that.”

He was sure it was true. Well, to an extent. It was his truth, at least. Virgil raised an eyebrow. His eyes brimmed with fear and anger and passion and something else, something deeper, something purely his.

Roman’s face was hotter than a furnace. For once in his life, he had nothing to say.

And then Virgil coughed and shoved Roman back into the present, making him realise just how stupid the words “true-love-bitch” sounded strung together like that, especially there and then. His blush deepened, and he started to stand when his fingers suddenly twitched. He froze, numb, but his fingers kept twitching, and closing, and shaking, until finally, they had curled into a tight fist. 

It was gone in an instant, the joints loosening and warmth returning to his limbs, but his fingers didn’t relax, stayed closed. In a split second, his feet clutched at the soft carpet, and he launched upright, staggering forward. His fist swung forward wildly, connecting with the dark side’s jaw. 

A gasp escaped Roman, but it was quickly drowned out by Deceit’s shrieks of agony. The prince collapsed, legs failing, but a pair of cool, lean arms caught him before he could hit the ground. He felt one of his arms rope around the emo’s neck, receiving a small grunt, and he was hoisted back to his feet.

His legs found ground again, and he dropped his arm, grabbing Virgil’s hand instead. Glaring at the snake, he snarled, “Get the fuck out of my head, you prick. Touch either of us again, and you’ll get more than just a bruise.”

“Get out of here, Deceit,” Virgil growled from beside him, and Roman felt him tighten his grip. “I won’t be like you. Never again.”

Deceit laughed humourlessly. “Oh, sure. Go, run back to your fairy tale. Have fun, really. Pretend you’re innocent. But you know as much as I know that the truth always comes out. Do you really think they’ll be so kind when they know the full extent of what you’ve done? Trust me, you’ll come crawling back eventually. I have time. Enjoy the pity party, Virgil, while it lasts. We’ll be waiting.” And with that, the snake sunk into the ground, leaving nothing but a small silver disc and blood-stained carpet.

For the longest time, the two sides stood motionless, side by side, in complete shock. Five seconds passed, then six, then seven, eight, nine. Finally, keeping a firm hold on the emo’s bony fingers, Roman crouched to one knee and reached out to the disc, brushing his knuckles against its smooth surface. 

Immediately, he jumped back, hissing through his teeth. Squinting down at his fist, he found steam and the smouldering of his burning flesh. He glanced back over at the object, expecting to see some glow or at least smoke, but the metal remained unchanged.

“It’s not for you,” Virgil muttered suddenly. Roman’s gaze flickered up to him, a silent question. He didn’t look at the prince as he added, “You can’t touch it. It’s meant for me.”

“What is it?”

He didn’t answer, only dropped Roman’s hand, crouching and snatching up the disc. When he rose again, and Roman with him, he was breathing heavily. The prince watched as he dug his fingernail into a crack in the side, toying with the rusted hinge. The clasp sprung open with ease, revealing a beautiful, antique compact mirror, lined in gold filigree and polished to the shine. Despite its beauty, Virgil flinched visibly at the sight, nearly dropping it. Roman settled his hand onto his shoulder, and while he flinched at this too, the prince could feel Virgil relax at the touch, just slightly. 

The words tumbled out of the emo like a junk closet filled to the brim and falling to the floor the moment the door was opened. “He does this sometimes,” he whimpered. “Gives me something small. Makes me want it. Makes me feel like it’ll make me better, like everything will be ok. I can’t get rid of them. They just keep coming.

“He won’t let me forget. Not any of it. Keeps sending me remnants of what I used to be. Shuts me up every time I feel happy with you guys to remind me I don’t belong. He won’t leave me alone.”

He held up the mirror, and Roman gasped. 

Virgil’s reflection was almost the complete opposite of the side it meant to mimic. The figure in the disc was standing straight as a pin, with an orange button-down and blackened skin at the neck. Its eyes were rimmed in thick kohl that almost acted as a mask, concealing the depth of his eyes. Its mouth was curled into a devilish sneer. The prince knew the face well; it had haunted his nightmares for years. 

“Paranoia,” Roman whispered, his voice a shiver of breath on his lips. He remembered the side as sharply as day, though it had been years since his tormentor had shown his face around the mind palace for the first and only time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so to clarify because I don't think I wrote it very well, Virgil kissed him. Like Roman went for the forehead and Virgie intercepted with his lips. Because cute?
> 
> anyway, have an amazing day, drink water, and take some time for yourself!


	5. An Unpleasant Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman remembers something that he'd much rather forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here have some Roman angst (haha because this entire fic isn't just me venting through Roman)
> 
> tw: tears  
> stabbing  
> feelings of uselessness  
> forced repression  
> unsympathetic paranoia (i'm sorry y'all)

Ever since he was a child, Roman had been terrified of being useless. With two separate creativities, he knew that his disappearance wouldn’t cause much panic; after all, he was only the naive, pg brother, the nefelibata. He strived to be the best to benefit Thomas, of course, but also just to show the others that he was worth keeping around. Every encounter felt like a test, a challenge of his worthiness. He could never be sure whether anyone liked him, and every little change in his relationship with them sent him into a spiral of worries.

By the time he was 15, he’d created a perfect mask for himself. It was beautiful, it was dramatic, it was emotional and emotionless. He never took it off around the others. After all, he figured, you can’t get hurt if your emotions aren’t real.

It happened without warning; no signs, no red flags, nothing. Roman was relaxing in his room after helping Thomas with a large group project. It was Logic’s turn to take the wheel, and the young Creativity was exhausted. Yawning, he tore away his mask and collapsed onto the bed, determined to get a few hours of sleep before his shift of dreaming.

The thoughts came slowly at first, slowly enough for Roman to bat them away. **Logan probably could’ve done this without you.** _Maybe so, but Logan couldn’t have done it as well._ **How do you know? He’s so much smarter than you.** _He may be smarter, but he doesn’t have the creativity necessary to make it interesting._ **What if you made it too interesting, though? What if it’s too creative and not informative enough?** _If I did, then Logan will fix it. He’s smart enough, he’ll keep me in check._ **So you’re fine with leaving Logan to clean up your messes? You’re okay with being incompetent as long as there’s someone else there to pick up the pieces? You just make everything harder.** _No. I add flair to what we do. Sometimes I go a little too far, but that’s why the others are always there to rein me in. **It’s not their job to keep you in check. Your ‘flair’ just adds useless information that makes it harder to get anything done. You push all of the responsibility onto Logan without doing anything.**_ _I do things. I matter. **All you do is cause trouble, you know it. You make Logan mad, you cloud Patton’s better judgement, you make Thomas wish for what he can never have, make him so sad that this is the life he has. You have no consideration for others’ feelings. All you care about is your dreams, everything you don’t have. Ungrateful, ungrateful, ungrateful.**_

A tear crept its way onto his cheek, but he ignored it. A knot had formed in his stomach, twisting and tightening and pulling and pushing and churning and heaving and burning and eating away at everything he had. The taste of acid coated his mouth. He was going to puke. He needed to scream, to cry, anything to get rid of the lump in his throat. The voice in his head kept going, faster, faster, bigger, smaller, tightening like a noose around his neck. Louder and louder and louder until it wasn’t even a voice, it was Roman. It was a thought, and all he could think. It was his world, everything behind his eyelids and all he could see. He had to push it out, he had to get it out of his skull before he drowned.

And then the mask was back on again. _**You’re so self-absorbed, you can’t even see how much they hate you.**_ The tears building up in his eyelids vanished, eyes hardening. _**You cause them so much pain.**_ The corners of his mouth twitched upward. **_You take Logan’s passions and efforts and grind them to dust and call it helping._** His shoulders straightened and relaxed. _**You take everything that Patton loves and call it stupid just to put aside the fact that you can’t feel like he can.**_ A small whimper escaped his throat. The mask pushed harder, digging into his cheeks, strangling the sound.

_**All you are is a nuisance, a destructive annoyance who breaks things and calls it heroism. You know it, you’re a monster. Why do you even bother showing up? Why are you so hell-bent on destroying Thomas from the inside out? You should leave, lock your door and never come out. They won’t miss you. You’ve been in here for hours, and no one’s come to check on you. Do you really think they’ll come looking for you if you never show up again? Please. They’ll be glad to have you gone. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? You can’t leave; you’re too scared. You talk such a big talk, but everyone can see how much of a coward you are. Stupid, sick, coward. No amount of makeup can cover up everything you try to hide. Coward, ungrateful, sick, monster, coward, ungrateful, sick, monster, coward, ungrateful, sick, monster, coward, ungrateful, sick, monster, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward.** _

Coward

And then,

A brief, blissful moment of silence.

A startled gasp.

And suddenly Roman realised that he wasn’t alone.

He acted purely on instinct, not even blinking before drawing his sword and thrusting it forward with a pure shriek of rage. Right into the torso of a wide-eyed, orange-clad man.

Paranoia gaped at Roman with equal parts shock and terror. He glanced down at the katana embedded in his stomach, then back up at Roman, then down to the sword again. The mask in his hand clattered to the floor, smiling up at him.

The dark side opened his mouth to speak, but Roman growled and twisted the blade, effectively silencing him in a new wave of pain. “Stop. Never call me a coward. Ever. Again.”

The shock curled into a snarl. “I’ve done nothing, Roman,” he drawled. “All I did was show you what you were hiding from yourself. Anything I’ve shown you? You already knew.” Wincing slightly, he gripped the blade and backed out of its reach. The sword dipped slightly before Roman regained control. “You know just as well as I do, Prince Charming, that it’s all true. You’re a coward, and everyone knows it.”

And Roman knew it, always had. He was a coward, no matter what mask he wore to hide it. He ran from it all when the going got rough. He had nothing to say, nothing to reassure himself, no more confidence to draw upon. He’d made his shelter of tiny compliments and delusions of grandeur, and it had been only a matter of time before a big, bad wolf would have come to blow it all away. He’d lost everything he never even had. He had nothing.

But when you have nothing, you have nothing to go back to as a coward’s excuse. When everything is gone, there’s nothing left for you to lose.

There’s nothing to run from when there’s nothing for anyone to take from you.

Within seconds, Paranoia had his back to the wall, a hand on his chest and a sword at his throat. “You can call me weak all you like,” the prince hissed, “but I wonder what that makes you. You wreak havoc, you ruin lives, and for what? I’d like to see what you’re hiding behind your own makeup, you hypocrite. I might be a coward, but you? You’re just a pathetic little jerk.”

The dark side had no idea who he’d just messed with, it seemed, and he seemed to be regretting it more by the minute. His eyes bore into Roman’s, burning with something he couldn’t identify, though it looked akin to fear. His breathing was shallow to the point of hyperventilation, and there was a hint of a tremble to his stature that hadn’t been there before.

After a moment, Roman realised the trembling wasn’t a nervous tick; the side was fading away from his grasp. Particle by particle, the prince watched as Paranoia disappeared, out of sight but never quite out of mind.

And all was still.

A glint of glitter caught his eye. The mask he’d worn for so long lay on the floor by his bed, beautiful and horrible. His saving grace and his Achilles heel. Perfect and poisonous.

He could feel its power luring him in as he took a step closer, but the relief he’d grown to expect from it was gone, replaced with a hollow sense of dread. The thoughts kept burning in the back of his mind. Coward, coward, coward. He couldn’t let this happen again.

Sitting gently on the edge of his bed, Roman swore to himself never to put the mask back on, a vow he kept for nearly 72 hours. But that day, he sat in free silence, and the stone-cold prince cried.

When he left his room hours later, Patton was on the couch watching cartoons, and Logan was curled up with a book in his favourite corner. Neither of them heard him approach. Neither of them was waiting for him. He tried not to care.

Quietly, he sat down a foot away from Patton on the couch. The father figure scooted next to him and rested his head on Roman’s shoulder without a moment’s hesitation. They didn’t speak, just sat there together while the television blasted bright colour at them. Patton didn’t ask why Roman’s eyes were so red, and Roman didn’t provide an answer. It wasn’t much, really, but to relax and be with someone without all the walls, just to be calm for once, was everything to him.

But the dark side’s words never left him. You’re a coward, and everyone knows it. No amount of makeup can cover up everything you try to hide. _Coward, coward, coward._

Three days passed without walls before it all became too much for him, and the mask came back on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well... I'm not gonna lie and say I'm sorry because this was fun to write. Sorry not sorry, don't lose ur head ;)


	6. A broken mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and Roman talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're finally here. this is the first multi-chapter I wrote, and I wasn't sure I'd ever post it. But here we are: the last chapter. I hope you enjoyed
> 
> tw: lots of angst  
> referenced manipulation  
> cultish tactics  
> fear-based decision making  
> fear  
> swearing  
> self-hatred  
> crying probably
> 
> I finished this chapter right after quarantine started. I was not ok, can you tell?

Virgil was finally still, the calm after a storm. Or was it before a storm? Roman couldn’t tell. The tension in the room was thicker than the grand oak tree in his room. The dark side studied him carefully in the reflection of the mirror, and though he knew it was an illusion, the prince had to repress a shudder, finally resorting to averting his gaze. He felt Virgil flinch beside him, then turn. The mirror thudded to the floor and into his line of vision, and his gaze jerked up to meet the man who had been his enemy for so long, half expecting to see that same condescending glare. Instead, the cautious glance was met with one of fear. Fear… and hope. Desperate hope, maybe, but hope nonetheless.

“Please,” the emo begged, and it was so far from what Roman had expected that he nearly jumped. “Ro, I’m so sorry. I never meant it to go that far, I swear. And I know there’s nothing I can say to make it up to you, but please, just hear me out. After that you can hate me all you like, just please listen first.”

He didn’t wait for a response. “I just wanted to be a part of something. When Thomas was a kid, everyone ignored me. I never had the dad who told me it was ok, or the friend who was always there to calm me down, or the one to cheer me up when I was sad. And I know that’s not an excuse, I know there’s no excuse, but I was so scared, so freaking scared, and I just wanted to have someone comfort me, talk to me like I mattered. And then Deceit came, and he said he cared, and he said he loved me, and he said he needed me, and I guess that was the first time anyone ever needed me.

“So, I signed my life away. I promised Deceit I would help him and he promised I would be heard. He told me I could use my… powers to make you see. He told me I couldn’t get people to listen, but I could make them hear if I screamed loud enough. So I screamed, and I helped him, and I thought I was doing the right thing.

“Then, he told me to take it further with you.”

“Me?” Roman whispered, aghast.

Virgil wouldn’t look at him. “He thought you were weak. He wanted me to test how far I could go. Before that, I’d never seen any fears of yours deeper than damaging your pride or failure. I didn’t know… well, I didn’t know anything, really. I just wanted to make him proud. So yeah, I dived right into your soul without a second thought.”

Hesitation silenced Virgil, and Roman saw him bite his lip subconsciously.

Finally, he continued his story with a new air of strain in his words. “I believed your lies, I really did. I thought you were some arrogant jerk, but I went too far into your head and… god, this is so stupid, but I was terrified. Your fears were just… they were so much like mine. Even when I left, the thoughts kept coming. Terrible thoughts. I can still feel them now.” His eyes finally flitted up to meet the prince’s. “It’s how I know you’re scared of me right now. How I know you freak out just as much as I do every time Thomas uploads a video, and that you let every hate comment get to you even when it’s completely arbitrary. I’m so sorry, but we’re linked, you and I. I can’t get rid of it, believe me, I’ve tried. It’s not always strong enough for me to tell what you’re scared of, but it’s still there to remind me of what I’ve done.

“But what really hit me was your reaction. If someone had taken everything I’d ever thought and shoved it right front and centre, I’d have broken down. I’d have stayed in that room forever and let it eat me up. But you… fought back. You saw yourself as your worst nightmare, and you said ‘fuck it.’ And it hit me; nothing I knew was right. I thought you were weak, but you were stronger than I ever could’ve been. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was ruining lives. I thought you were a dick, but you’re…” he trailed off, head hanging sullenly.

Roman stepped forward without thinking, and though Virgil’s breath hitched slightly, the emo did not back away. Reaching out slowly as to not frighten the fragile man in front of him, the prince placed his hands atop those of his emo nightmare. “You don’t have to explain yourself,” he whispered. “Virgil, look at me. I’m serious, look at me. Am I scared of you?”  
Two wide eyes stared painfully back at him. “You always are. Even when I can’t feel it, I know it.”

“That’s not what I asked. You said we’re connected, right? Really look. What am I scared of right now?”

Virgil sighed, closed his eyes, and scrunched up his nose the way he always did when he concentrated. His brow furrowed. “Failure,” he murmured, and Roman’s gut jolted. It was true; he really didn’t want to screw this up.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Always failure. But look. Do you see yourself there?”

With a huff, his features relaxed. “I told you, you always-”

“Look!”

“You think I can control this‽” Virgil screamed. A tear rolled down his cheek. “You think I like this‽ Every day I just pop up and try to ignore the voice in my head screaming that I’m the stuff of nightmares, and you want me to look for it?”

Something twisted in Roman’s stomach, something guilty and terrified, but he shoved it down. “Please. I know it’s hard, but you have to see for yourself. Really look at it. What am I scared of? Virgil, trust me. What do you see?”

His voice must’ve been desperate enough, because Virgil sighed, sucked in a weak breath, and fell still.

His nose twitched. Fingers began to fidget. A bite of the lip, a tremble in the wrist. The prince knew precisely what he was seeing. Every little detail, every little worry, every little thought he’d ever thought about Virgil was pouring out like a tipped vase. How he’d feared his own feelings for so long, how he’d despised himself for ignoring what he’d thought was his job, how scared he was that Virgil would get hurt even now. What rose to the surface was the everpresent terror of rejection, the possibility that he’d pour out his heart, and Virgil would see all of the ugly shit inside, and he’d be alone again. The fear was growing stronger by the minute, and he knew there was nothing he could do. He was spreading his feelings out like a deck of cards for the emo to read, and even though he knew it was what he had to do, the thought of what he was doing chilled him to the bone.

Virgil’s expression contorted, from rage to confusion to pain and back again to confusion. Finally, his eyes flicked open, and he stared back at Roman bewilderingly.

The prince grimaced. “I’m not scared of you, Virgil. I used to be. Oh, I was terrified that Paranoia would come back to haunt me for years. But that was years ago. I wasn’t scared of him, I was scared of what he brought to light. The thoughts were mine. Paranoia frightened me, but there was nothing really to be scared of except myself.

“But Anxiety? Anxiety has done nothing but help me all this time. Anxiety reigns me in when I’ve lost my way. Anxiety lets me know that my fears are valid and helps me weed out the ones that don’t make sense. Anxiety taught me that sometimes… sometimes it’s ok to be real, to have new feelings.

“Virgil, you’re not Paranoia, and you never were. Like I said before, you and I aren’t so different. I have my mask, and you had yours. You’re Anxiety, Virgil, Anxiety through and through. Paranoia is just a faulty shield, and you were strong enough to toss it out. Virgil, you’ve changed, I know it. You can’t keep blaming yourself for what you used to be. The man who used to plague my nightmares is long gone; now there’s just the boy who reminded me what feeling was, the one who balances me perfectly, the one who I would do anything for, the one… the one I love.”

Virgil hadn’t moved a muscle since Roman had started talking, and now that the room was quiet, his face still held the same blank expression. _Congrats, Ro. You’ve blown it. You went too far, and now he’s scared, and he’s gonna ask you to leave, and all you’ve done is make things worse. He’ll never forgive you, and he’ll never forgive himself, and he’s going to be miserable, and it’s all your fault. Why did you have to open your mo-_

A pair of cold, lanky arms wrapped around his chest. The prince flinched, but it was only Virgil. Virgil… who was holding onto him like he was an anchor grounding him to the world. Roman’s face felt like it was on fire. The emo’s chin rested on his shoulder, and his sharp jaw dug into his collarbone, and suddenly all Roman could think about was how perfectly sculpted that jaw was. It didn’t help that Virgil’s surprisingly muscular torso was pressed firmly against his own. And just like that, all of Roman’s thoughts, all of the fears, vanished. It was nothingness and Virgil. It was the most amazing thing he’d ever felt, so warm and comforting and real, so, so real.

Virgil’s muffled voice rang out in the silence before him, shaky but clear. “You know, I left the dark sides after that. I think I always knew what I was doing was wrong. Deceit justified it for me, and I wanted the things he said to be true. And… I think I knew what would happen if I tried to quit. It took me a month to stack up enough courage as it was. But you, you were the spark that made me realise that maybe, just maybe my life could be different. To see you fight against the same thoughts that had been holding me back all those years, it gave me hope where I’d never had any before. You opened up opportunities I never knew existed. If it weren’t for you, who knows where I’d be today. You saved my soul, Ro, and I’ll never thank you enough for that.

“And you kept saving me, even after I left. I’d always assumed it was Patton, but I’m sure it was you, even if you didn’t know what you were doing. It was so weird; when I became Anxiety, for the first few months, it was absolute hell. I was still the villain, just with less protection. None of you would talk to me, and Deceit practically lived in my room, trying to convince me it wasn’t worth it and… trying to force me back in.”

Roman remembered those days well. Logan wanted nothing to do with this new variable he knew nothing about, and even Patton was wary at first. As for Roman, he was never quite sure what to think of Anxiety. All of his instincts told him he was an enemy, from his dark persona to his way of appearing without notice. And yet there always seemed to be something wrong with that. He loved the classic Disney villains who were obviously evil with no redeeming qualities, but they were outdated, two-dimensional. In the real world, and even in modern stories, every villain had another side to their story. And the side really seemed to be trying to help Thomas, not hurt him.

Still, it was better to air on the side of caution. The defences went up thicker than usual, the mask on tighter. But he had to worry underneath all of that, and it haunted him at night, whether what he was doing was right. He often wondered if the emo was alright and wished he could check. But he never did.

“Well, it was a month or so in, and I was having a really shitty day. But then there was a knock on my door. And when I went out, there was a tree on my doorstep. A beautiful baby oak tree, maybe up to my waist. And the pot it came in, it was so beautifully decorated like a galaxy, and I was sure it was the best present I’ve ever gotten. I’ve managed to keep it hidden from Deceit, god knows what he’d do if he found it. But it made me feel like I could finally do something right, I could help it grow instead of making it fall. And for years I was sure Patton had been the one to knock on my door and make me feel welcome. It wasn’t until Logan told me about the oak in your own room that I put the pieces together. After all, you’re Thomas’s hopes and dreams.” Virgil pulled away from the hug, resting his hands firmly on the prince’s shoulders. “Thank you for reminding me of mine.

“Roman, my whole life has been one big uncertainty after another. I’ve never been sure of much of anything. I’m indecisive and doubtful by nature. But these past few years, one thing has become apparent to me. There’s only one thing I know is true, and it’s that I… god, I’ve never done this before. But Ro, I trust you. That doesn’t happen often. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to entrust you with my heart. I love you too.”

Roman’s heart warmed to dangerous temperatures. “Virgil,” he whispered, the word like a vow on his tongue. “Virge, I am so sorry I’ve been so cold in the past. I love you, I really do, and I’m really trying. I’m going to get rid of this mask, this wretched crutch, but it’s gonna take me some time. That’s all I’m asking for, and even that might be too much of an ask, but please, give me a chance. Give me some time. I can’t promise I’ll never have another knee jerk reaction, but I can promise I’ll stop hiding behind a mask.”

The emo grinned. “I’ve waited years for this moment. If time is all you need, I’m more than willing to give it to you.”

Tears brimming in his eyes, the prince pulled Virgil back into a smothering hug. And for now, he let himself breathe. Because this was real. Virgil was real. And maybe this moment could last forever. Maybe they’d be safe. Maybe things would be different. Maybe everything would be alright.

Because that’s the thing with hope; when it starts, there’s no stopping it. It grows and evolves and infects until everything is perfect, even just for a moment.

Roman smiled. The mask was nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked that. Thanks for sticking through all the way to the end. Have a great day and love yourself or I will find you!

**Author's Note:**

> uh oh


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